


a garden left for ruin by a billionaire

by lanyon



Series: a garden left for ruin by a billionaire [1]
Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-17
Updated: 2012-01-17
Packaged: 2017-10-29 17:37:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/322418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lanyon/pseuds/lanyon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint and Tony meet. It's bromance at first sight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	a garden left for ruin by a billionaire

**Author's Note:**

> +Written for [this prompt](http://avengerkink.livejournal.com/3266.html?thread=1622210#t1622210) at avengerkink and subsequently tidied up.  
> +The title is from Arcade Fire's 'City With No Children'.  
> +This was mostly written in an attempt to break the mini writer's block I've been having. Let's see if it worked.

Everyone remembers the day Tony met Clint. Everyone held their breath. It was a collective pause as the two men circled each other. Literally; in the middle of Tony’s living room, they walked around each other, eyes narrowed.

“I thought you’d be taller.”

“I thought you’d be younger.”

The corners of their mouths twitched in an almost identical grin. Even Bruce Banner didn’t recognise the obvious: a monster had been created. At the time, everyone was so relieved that Clint didn’t mouth off and that Tony didn’t instantly produce a robot with twenty-twenty vision and a capacity for archery hitherto unseen in the A.I. world.

Phil and Steve exchanged glances. Their stance was almost identical, too, arms folded across their chests and feet just slightly apart.

It stood to reason that, if Clint and Tony had the same taste in men (upstanding, pillars of the community), they'd have the same taste in chaos (global, far-reaching).

.

After that first supervised visit, the Powers That Be, in all their eye-patched glory, decreed that the two posed no danger.

Director Fury is not psychic. Sometimes, he’s not even right.

.

Months have passed since that fateful day. It is nigh on impossible to get a lock on Clint and Tony when they’re together. Clint has a sixth sense when it comes to identifying hidden surveillance equipment and Tony has the technical wherewithal to neutralize it in seconds. These men could get the drop on Loki with very little effort. There are rumours that suggest they have.

A letter of complaint from the Norse God of Mischief is one of the more unusual correspondences Agent Philip Coulson has received in his time.

Tony framed the letter, having highlighted his and Clint’s names. Coulson asked if they wanted a gold star, too.

“Uh, guys,” is Tony’s usual opening gambit when the Avengers have assembled and Steve is about to give his usual stirring, but thoughtful pep talk. “We don’t actually need you. Clint and I can take it from here.”

It doesn’t seem quite believable that when Clint and Tony work together, there’s more collateral damage than if Bruce is riled up and on the furry green warpath.

.

“It’s like they were separated at birth,” says Phil, his head in his hands.

“Can we undo it?” asks Steve. He’s too polite to say but he rather misses those occasional quiet evenings in that he and Tony used to enjoy together. He’s still got a lot of movies and documentaries to watch and they’re always considerably more enjoyable when Tony’s on the couch with him and his hands are restless and wandering and now Steve is blushing and Phil can probably read his mind.

Phil probably _can_ read his mind except that he’s rather morosely considering another night in with paperwork. Clint has always joked that he expects Phil to leave him for his legal pad any day now but this has gotten beyond a joke.

They don’t even know what _state_ Tony and Clint are currently in.

Scratch that.

A call comes in from Jane Foster. It’s rather a shrill message, filling Coulson’s office as Jane demands to know why Tony Stark and Clint Barton have absconded with Jane’s assistant.

“So,” says Director Fury later. “They might be in New Mexico?”

“They were an hour ago, sir,” says Phil. His head hasn’t left his hands in all that time.

“And they’ve abducted a civilian.”

“Darcy Lewis isn’t precisely a civilian, sir.”

Director Fury looks skeptical. Steve, unexpectedly, speaks up in support of Coulson’s assessment. “It’s true, sir. She’s sort of like Juliette Lewis in that film.”

Fury blinks at Steve.

“You know. The one with Woody Harrelson.”

“If you’re implying that Stark, Barton and Miss Lewis are going to embark on a cross-country killing spree, Cap, we’ve got a problem.” Fury doesn’t mention that he’s rather impressed with the fact that Captain America’s knowledge of popular culture has reached the 1990s.

.

All three miscreants return to the Avenger Mansion thirty-eight hours later. Darcy is wearing a faux-Cossack hat and Barton has a bruised face and split lip. Stark’s arm is in a sling. All three are grinning like idiots until they see the expressions on the faces of their bosses, lovers and assistants.

Pepper, Fury and Jane all start speaking at once. It’s a cacophony of _where were you_ s and _diplomatic incidents_ and _longest debriefing session of your combined lives_ and _no respect for national security_.

Clint and Tony and Darcy are in for a world of trouble and Phil and Steve won’t do a thing to stop it.

.

Perhaps it’s not his most mature response, but Phil doesn’t say a word to Clint. His lips thin and he doesn’t meet Clint’s eyes. He’s not mad. He’s just disappointed. Worse, he’s jealous. He’s nearly fifty years old and he’s jealous of Tony fucking Stark. Welcome to the twenty-first century. Every man on the planet is jealous of Stark, bounder, cad, scoundrel and thief that he is.

It doesn’t say much that Phil is surprised when his office door is nudged open some time past midnight. Clint looks dreadful and the shadows under his eyes match the bruise on his cheek.

“Fury’s not happy with us,” he offers.

Phil’s gaze flickers up. “The only people happy with you are you,” he says, shortly. He turns back to his computer screen. Clint is still standing there.

“What do you want, Clint?” Phil asks, tiredly.

“Can I’ve a ride home?”

Phil blinks.

“It’s just that Fury has rescinded my access to the vehicle pool,” says Clint, slowly. “And I’m not allowed off-base unsupervised.” Phil knows that Clint hates the private quarters here, with their lumpy mattresses and prison cell charm.

“And why do you think that is?” asks Phil, his voice soft.

“Because I went bar-hopping in Moscow with Tony Stark, Darcy Lewis, three members of the Bolshoi and a guy who claimed to be a former KGB spy?”

Phil snorts softly. “Oh, Natasha is going to kick your ass when she finds out.”

That almost makes it better, now that he thinks about it. He logs off and stands up. “I think we need some new ground-rules, Clint,” he says as he pulls on his suit jacket. Every few months, they puzzle out new rules to address their strange professional-private relationship.

“Anything,” Clint says fervently.

“Next time Tony Stark tells you he has a good idea, run it by me beforehand?” Phil almost smiles. “Just so I can get in the disciplinary action first.”

Clint’s hand slips into the pocket of Phil’s jacket. “You missed me, huh?”

“I never said that, Barton.”

Clint’s shoulder brushes Phil’s. His voice is laden with satisfaction when he speaks again. “You totally missed me.”


End file.
